


Two Dozen

by Hgrade



Series: Degeneration Drabbles [4]
Category: Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Degradation, F/M, Risk of Pregnancy Mentioned, Secret Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, inappropriate relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 01:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7385020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hgrade/pseuds/Hgrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bumblebee's really sick of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Dozen

**Author's Note:**

> HOt off my sleep deprived press, and unbetaed.

He's not sure why they're still doing this. A thought that he immediately redacts. Bumblebee looks back at those bright optics and recalls that he's a terrible bot. There's far too much evidence pointing to the fact that he should be canned if they ever get back to Cybertron. The glow of her optics dissipates as she closes her eyes and Bumblebee presses his fingers over the edge of her helm. The cadet even leans into his touch, leaning into his yellow-black frame as he wraps his other arm around her. It's comforting to have her warm protoform touching his mesh nodes. They aren't even intimate yet and he's already running hot.

They're tucked into the alcove he's had since they took up their residence in this scrapyard. He's pressing his faceplate against her neck and nipping at her protoform lines like he's been since she came into the academy.   
Standard issue plating has been memorized by his servos, his new chassy has its own bells and whistles. Bumblebee presses under her chassis and brushes against exposed lines before she grinds against his hips. Their venting sounds loud in his audials, but he can't make himself care. 

Sideswipe sleeps like a rock, Grimlock might as well be a rock. Fixit's usually more observant but he's always working on that damned ship. Why doesn't Bee just find a 'con to offline him while the others are all dozing off and doing their own things. Strongarm's already done her nightly rounds, he's already checked the back roads around the junkyard thrice. Why shouldn't they utilize some of that vast spare time they have. 

Bee piles up the excuses and presses his intake to Strongarm's tongue pressing into hers and desperately trying to avoid the darkening heat in his spark. The emblem on her chest feels like it's searing itself into his arm. Again, the sick thought of exposing their sparks on this decrepit little corner of Earth to create sparklings enters unbidden. The older bot stops touching her wiring, earning a groan. The yellow bot does his best to act natural, smiling at her. His servo drifts lower, hovers, pointedly avoids touching her equipment belt and brushes against her bared interface array. 

Fingers sticky, he spreads her plush lips with practiced ease. Had he ever been so popular with femmes than when it was inappropriate. There had been so many of them at the academy, in every hue and frame size. None of them had been more appealing than the single one that didn't hit on him. Now, Bumblebee didn't hit on her either. The arrangement started early, and before either had any idea they'd be in this relationship. The more fragging her put him in danger, the more attractive the idea became.

Which is why he's sliding his finger against her outer node in the dead of the night, nodes blinking on and off in the inky darkness of the scrapyard. A docile corner of his mind wonders if the others know about what they do. Strongarm doesn't think anyone will be capable of doing anything about it even if they did. There's no danger on Earth. His spark thrums hard though, she moans against his audials as he begins to slip his fingers into her slick, wet box. "Shhh." he whispers to his cadet, face glowing with energon.

It's a good thing Rusty's dad has kept their sleeping quarters un-lit for privacy. The tiny part of Bee's processor not focused on the light dancing against his wrist says they'd be able to see any peeping optics. Nothing's going to keep Bee from watching her valve lips squish against the palm of his hand, node glowing blue. He continues until he hears her bite back another vocalization, hips shaking as he pistons out slowly. 

The mech absent-mindedly finds himself licking his fingers, processor playing catch-up as she starts to play with his hip seams. She doesn't have to ask for his cord, he's always free. The angle is awkward, face to face as he slips between her slick lips rather than penetrate. Strongarm grumbles as they rearrange themselves, he picks up one of her thighs from the inside, thumb pressing against the white panel. They teeter momentarily, then he's lining himself up and thrusting in sharply. Her teeth look blindingly white in the darkness, the lubricant in her mouth inky in the darkness.

Bee prays she's not leaving dents in his shoulders again, that took a lot of effort to remove on Cybertron. Earth has far less medics around. The first few thrusts are jagged and janky. Then Bee finds a smooth rhythm within the pulsing core of arousal. He kisses her neck reverently, licking and nipping gently at the sensitive lines on her protoform. The cadet shivers and gropes under his chassy, clinging with her other arm. It's a game of who's supporting who, his thrusts are sometimes enough to just barely lift her off of her pedes. 

He holds out as long as he can, but he hasn't kept track of just how many times she's came. The bot even finishes inside of her, grunting and crushing her against his chest. Yet doubt trickles in when she's venting raggedly against his audial. Strongarm wants, all bots have that sick line of code telling them to spark and not just for bonding matrimony. Her optics are glowing like twin stars. His cadet could do so much better than a disgusting mech like him. The white and blue bot leans down and kisses Bee delicately. The two of them stick together for too long, and suggests going for another patrol. It'd buy time for them to get cleaned up, as Bee's chronometer's has begun ticking about how dangerously close it is to dawn. 

Several wild animals are startled by the appearance of two vehicles driving along poorly maintained roads. Bumblebee makes sure he arrives far after Strongarm does, picking out twigs and leaves from his frame. Acting normal comes naturally. Bee wants to pretend he hasn't committed any crimes like these 'cons they're hunting. A little part of him snickers that he'd fit in along with the prisoners just fine.


End file.
